Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 22 🌶️

Emersyn

I sink into the plush couch, a warm bowl of salty popcorn cradled in my lap. Locke insisted we watch some action-packed thriller, and while the car chases and explosions flicker on the TV screen, my thoughts are miles away.

My mom's visit, my brother's upcoming wedding, and the tangled web of feelings involving Fowler and Marx—it's like my life is a pressure cooker about to burst. Can't things slow down for just a moment?

Locke and Cruz are deep in a sports debate, their voices ebbing and flowing like they're commentators on ESPN. Locke insisted on this movie and isn't even watching it.

Marx is watching it, though. Or at least he seems to be. I catch a quick glance at him, his profile highlighted by the flickering TV screen. The lights play off his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. He looks almost ethereal with his white hair. I still haven't figured out if it's naturally that color or not.

"So, how was everyone's day?" I ask, scooping up a handful of popcorn.

"Same old, same old," Locke replies, scratching his beard. He rolls his eyes when Cruz points out a flaw in his sports argument. "How was yours?"

"It was alright. I had lunch with my brother Thoreau today. He's good, busy with wedding stuff. I totally forgot I don't have a date to his wedding anymore."

Marx's eyebrow quirks at the mention of my brother, but he doesn't say anything. I wonder what he's thinking.

"When's the wedding?" Locke asks, leaning back.

"It's on a Wednesday, two weeks from now." Why did Thoreau pick a weekday? Aren't weddings normally on the weekend?

Locke grimaces, letting out a low whistle. "A weekday? Man, that's rough. I have work."

Cruz nods sympathetically. "Same here. Sorry, Em."

I shrug, trying to brush it off. "It's okay, guys. No big deal." I turn my attention back to the movie, hoping to escape into the storyline.

Going solo to my brother's wedding would be a downer, but it could be worse. Like showing up with a guy who's cheating on me. That would be a nightmare.

"You know, I could go with you," Marx offers, breaking me out of my thoughts.

My heart skips a beat. I snap my gaze toward him, genuinely surprised. Did Marx just offer to be my date? "Really? You would do that?"

"Yeah," he says, his voice low and steady. "I set the work schedules. I can take the day off."

A wave of relief washes over me, but it's tinged with uncertainty. What would Fowler think? We're not officially anything, but things are complicated.

"Thank you, Marx. I'll think about it. I'm not sure if I'm  even wanting to take anyone, but it's good to know I have an option."

He gives a slight nod. "Just let me know."

I can't help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. The thought of Marx accompanying me to something as personal as my brother's wedding sends my stomach into somersaults.

I sink deeper into the couch, lost in thought. My gaze shifts back to the TV, but I'm not really watching anymore. A car explodes on screen, characters yell, but it's all background noise.

Marx going with me to the wedding? The thought both thrills and terrifies me. I haven't really allowed myself to dive into whatever I'm feeling for him. It's safer that way, less complicated, especially with the whole Fowler situation.

The movie rolls on, and Locke and Cruz cheer at an action sequence. Marx chuckles. It's a low, soft sound that causes my stomach to do that little flippy thing again.